Breathing Tears; PG; Jonghyun/Kibum
Breathing Tears
Jonghyun/girl!Kibum, past!Jonghyun/Jinki; PG; ~1,200w
It's a routine by now; she jumps on the car, and he drives them to his grave.
A/N: MY FIRST POST IN THIS COMM \o////// This sucks, I know, written with that weird experimental style, but I can't lie okay, I love this ;______; This supposes to be a het!Jongyu, but like I've said in twitter, "I can't believe I just rewrite a jongyu and turn it into a jongkey. HELP I CAN'T WRITE ANYTHING OTHER THAN JONGKEY." and "I rewrite tons parts because I found it weirdly written and suddenly it just turns itself into a jongkey :| fml." Yeah, go figure. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME JONGKEY.
She closes her eyes as the sun shines, flooding against her face and make it warm, warm, warm, and the wind is sweeping her hair out of her eyes and she hums along with the song-some old English song she listened to when her father was still alive and her mother still cooked at the warm kitchen and she almost forgot it but she didn’t, somehow-from the radio and she puts up her feet on the dashboard and stretches out her arms until it bumps against something, someone’s, hair, soft and rough and she can hear him chuckles.
Oh baby I’m so tired of you, she sings out loud, because you will definitely remember the lyrics if you hear it over and over and over again, the same tune and the same words and the same ooh, baby and the boy besides her is laughing now, head thrown backwards and his eyes crinkle into lines and she almost slaps his hand because they are on the fucking road, for God sake, what the hell.
But his laugh dies down and his hand moves to the gear and his foot presses further and further and the car is speeding, faster and faster and the wind is wilder and wilder and his eyes do not leave the road, it’s hard and serious and she almost cries in laughter because you’re only serious when you’re turned on, aren’t you and he smiles that smile and her heart stops when she remembers when she realizes and then the song changes.
She does not know the new song, so she keeps her mouth shut and she stares at her knees and his hair is being blown and it’s yellow, it’s brown, it’s like a drop of sun, like sunset she wants to say but she is afraid it will reminds him of him and so she only stares at her knees. His eyes stay on the road and his lips is pressed into a straight line.
The remaining of the journey is quiet and it’s everything but comfortable.
They stop at the gas station, and she whistles all the way to the convenient store, ignoring his laugh and his stare and his shaking hands as he fills up the fuel. She takes three boxes of cigarettes-always the same brand, never a different name-on the counter and a lighter-blue like the sky like the sea like his contact lenses-and a package of gum-mint flavor. She laughs loudly at the cashier’s failed attempt to joke because she wants discount and she winks and she gets it for free. The manager glares at him and she waves her pretty and manicured nail at his face before she walks down the alley as she turns the plastic bag around and around.
He looks at her with an amused look from the driver’s seat, seat belt has already on and she throws the plastic bag at his head as he remarks casually about the now being scolded employee. She shrugs and he shakes his head and he takes out a box and takes out one stick and he slips it behind the rear-view mirror. She eyes it carefully and she eyes him warily and she whispers not going to smoke it? and he grins, it is wide and it is blank and empty and he says I’m still waiting for someone to smoke it with. She forgets and tries to remember since when does he start to smoke?
She shrieks when she realizes she forgets to buy new nail polish in the middle of the road and he rolls his eyes.
Seoul is different. She should have known it by now, she slaps her mind, but she can’t help but gaping in awe and her eyes widen at the amount of people she looks at, she sees, and they say it’s only the outskirt of the capital. She glances at him and he plays around with the lighter and he eyes the fire carefully and he licks his lower lip carefully, slowly, and his eyes lightens up when he looks at her and mouths let’s go.
She wants to ask him, wants to say are you okay, wants to wraps her arms around his waist like she usually does but his shoulder is straight and he walks down the road confidently, contrast with the dark air around him, and she rather sees him crying and begging and whimpering rather than to see him being fake, thrown mask is used again and she wants to slap him across the face when he smiles that smile that she hates, always hates.
He crouches near the stone, alone and cold and grey and there’s no one there, nothing, and there’s only one dried flower in front of it and it screams death and he touches it like he doesn’t want to leave and maybe he doesn’t want to and she knows that he wants to stay she knows she is being selfish but then everything will fall apart when he stays and she walks up to him and she presses cold hand against his back and it is tense, so tensed, and when he laughs, it sounds like a cough; he drags his fingers against the deep curve of 'Lee Jinki' and.
A minute, he says, pleas, and he takes out his lighter and his box of cigarettes and she doesn’t bother to hide the tears anymore, she cries and cries and it’s wet and it drops and falls to the ground like rain like waterfall and she nods, she pulls her hand back, her soul, herself, and she left, back towards him, further and further, and she doesn’t know whether she should be sad or happy when the familiar scent of the cigarette he likes so much fills the air. She curls herself up at the passenger seat, wets the inside of her elbows, makes dark and strange patches on the knees of her light blue jeans, and she wonders if she will leave and go home alone this time, after years and years and years of worrying and crying and worrying and-
The sound of the engine doesn’t shock her, and when she lifts her eyes, she’s looking at the same him, the same brown gold yellow hair, the same cocky smile, and his eyes are red and his nose is puffed and he throws a stick to the ground, still smoking, slips another behind his ear, and he smacks his lips and chuckles.
Let’s go back.
Do you miss him, Jonghyun, she asks to his chest his moving chest and his breathing against the top of her hair is warm is steady and his chest rises up and falls down in a strange rhythm and she presses her fingertips harder to feel his heartbeat to make sure that she’s not imagining things and he presses his socked feet to her calves.
Always, Gwiboon, he answers with a voice that sounds like a croak and she ignores the salty water makes its way across his face across his collarbone to her forehead to her nose to her lips and she pulls him tighter and the night grows colder like it always does. Every single beat of my heart.
She wonders why she is always the one who’s crying when he is the one who is being left behind.
join/watch? ♥
Jonghyun/girl!Kibum, past!Jonghyun/Jinki; PG; ~1,200w
It's a routine by now; she jumps on the car, and he drives them to his grave.
A/N: MY FIRST POST IN THIS COMM \o////// This sucks, I know, written with that weird experimental style, but I can't lie okay, I love this ;______; This supposes to be a het!Jongyu, but like I've said in twitter, "I can't believe I just rewrite a jongyu and turn it into a jongkey. HELP I CAN'T WRITE ANYTHING OTHER THAN JONGKEY." and "I rewrite tons parts because I found it weirdly written and suddenly it just turns itself into a jongkey :| fml." Yeah, go figure. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME JONGKEY.
She closes her eyes as the sun shines, flooding against her face and make it warm, warm, warm, and the wind is sweeping her hair out of her eyes and she hums along with the song-some old English song she listened to when her father was still alive and her mother still cooked at the warm kitchen and she almost forgot it but she didn’t, somehow-from the radio and she puts up her feet on the dashboard and stretches out her arms until it bumps against something, someone’s, hair, soft and rough and she can hear him chuckles.
Oh baby I’m so tired of you, she sings out loud, because you will definitely remember the lyrics if you hear it over and over and over again, the same tune and the same words and the same ooh, baby and the boy besides her is laughing now, head thrown backwards and his eyes crinkle into lines and she almost slaps his hand because they are on the fucking road, for God sake, what the hell.
But his laugh dies down and his hand moves to the gear and his foot presses further and further and the car is speeding, faster and faster and the wind is wilder and wilder and his eyes do not leave the road, it’s hard and serious and she almost cries in laughter because you’re only serious when you’re turned on, aren’t you and he smiles that smile and her heart stops when she remembers when she realizes and then the song changes.
She does not know the new song, so she keeps her mouth shut and she stares at her knees and his hair is being blown and it’s yellow, it’s brown, it’s like a drop of sun, like sunset she wants to say but she is afraid it will reminds him of him and so she only stares at her knees. His eyes stay on the road and his lips is pressed into a straight line.
The remaining of the journey is quiet and it’s everything but comfortable.
They stop at the gas station, and she whistles all the way to the convenient store, ignoring his laugh and his stare and his shaking hands as he fills up the fuel. She takes three boxes of cigarettes-always the same brand, never a different name-on the counter and a lighter-blue like the sky like the sea like his contact lenses-and a package of gum-mint flavor. She laughs loudly at the cashier’s failed attempt to joke because she wants discount and she winks and she gets it for free. The manager glares at him and she waves her pretty and manicured nail at his face before she walks down the alley as she turns the plastic bag around and around.
He looks at her with an amused look from the driver’s seat, seat belt has already on and she throws the plastic bag at his head as he remarks casually about the now being scolded employee. She shrugs and he shakes his head and he takes out a box and takes out one stick and he slips it behind the rear-view mirror. She eyes it carefully and she eyes him warily and she whispers not going to smoke it? and he grins, it is wide and it is blank and empty and he says I’m still waiting for someone to smoke it with. She forgets and tries to remember since when does he start to smoke?
She shrieks when she realizes she forgets to buy new nail polish in the middle of the road and he rolls his eyes.
Seoul is different. She should have known it by now, she slaps her mind, but she can’t help but gaping in awe and her eyes widen at the amount of people she looks at, she sees, and they say it’s only the outskirt of the capital. She glances at him and he plays around with the lighter and he eyes the fire carefully and he licks his lower lip carefully, slowly, and his eyes lightens up when he looks at her and mouths let’s go.
She wants to ask him, wants to say are you okay, wants to wraps her arms around his waist like she usually does but his shoulder is straight and he walks down the road confidently, contrast with the dark air around him, and she rather sees him crying and begging and whimpering rather than to see him being fake, thrown mask is used again and she wants to slap him across the face when he smiles that smile that she hates, always hates.
He crouches near the stone, alone and cold and grey and there’s no one there, nothing, and there’s only one dried flower in front of it and it screams death and he touches it like he doesn’t want to leave and maybe he doesn’t want to and she knows that he wants to stay she knows she is being selfish but then everything will fall apart when he stays and she walks up to him and she presses cold hand against his back and it is tense, so tensed, and when he laughs, it sounds like a cough; he drags his fingers against the deep curve of 'Lee Jinki' and.
A minute, he says, pleas, and he takes out his lighter and his box of cigarettes and she doesn’t bother to hide the tears anymore, she cries and cries and it’s wet and it drops and falls to the ground like rain like waterfall and she nods, she pulls her hand back, her soul, herself, and she left, back towards him, further and further, and she doesn’t know whether she should be sad or happy when the familiar scent of the cigarette he likes so much fills the air. She curls herself up at the passenger seat, wets the inside of her elbows, makes dark and strange patches on the knees of her light blue jeans, and she wonders if she will leave and go home alone this time, after years and years and years of worrying and crying and worrying and-
The sound of the engine doesn’t shock her, and when she lifts her eyes, she’s looking at the same him, the same brown gold yellow hair, the same cocky smile, and his eyes are red and his nose is puffed and he throws a stick to the ground, still smoking, slips another behind his ear, and he smacks his lips and chuckles.
Let’s go back.
Do you miss him, Jonghyun, she asks to his chest his moving chest and his breathing against the top of her hair is warm is steady and his chest rises up and falls down in a strange rhythm and she presses her fingertips harder to feel his heartbeat to make sure that she’s not imagining things and he presses his socked feet to her calves.
Always, Gwiboon, he answers with a voice that sounds like a croak and she ignores the salty water makes its way across his face across his collarbone to her forehead to her nose to her lips and she pulls him tighter and the night grows colder like it always does. Every single beat of my heart.
She wonders why she is always the one who’s crying when he is the one who is being left behind.
join/watch? ♥